


Wipe the Slate Clean

by TheDarknessFactor



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, BvS spoilers, F/M, Post-Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6556036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarknessFactor/pseuds/TheDarknessFactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ms. Lane?” he prompts.  </p><p>She does a quick check of their surroundings, and then faces him again.  “Clark?”</p><p>There’s no mistaking the confusion in his voice.  “I’m sorry?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS ONE OF THE MOST AMAZING ANGST PROMPTS I'VE EVER HAD. Seriously, it's all I ever dreamed of writing. I had way too much fun with it. 
> 
> The prompt was this: "post BvS. Lois investigating a story. Gets in trouble. Amnesia!Clark rescues her."
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

It’s not like Lois _means_ to end up in these situations.

All she’s trying to do, technically, is make the world a better place.  In her own way.  Which means really digging into the research behind a story, and doing _that_ often means visiting unsavory parts of Metropolis, or dangerous areas of the world.  It also, possibly, means that she encounters people who may or may not wish to do her harm, depending on the questions she’s asking.

…okay, so maybe she does mean to get into these situations.

“The great Lois Lane,” says Thug Number One, dangling a crowbar from his left hand.  Lois eyes it with less trepidation than she should.  “Thinking she can make a damn difference.”

“Well, when it gets thugs like you to stop selling drugs to kids in the neighborhood,” Lois replies, shrugging.  It could be worse.  She’s not tied up in any way.  She can stall for time while she figures out a way to disarm him.  

“Just doing our job,” says Thug Number Two (thank god there’s always a dim-witted one), and Thug Number One shoots him an incensed look.

Lois suppresses a triumphant grin.  

“You dumbfuck,” shouts Number One.  “She’s probably wearing a recording device!”  Then, without warning, he swings.

Lois almost doesn’t see it coming, but she manages to duck out of the way of the first hit.  This guy isn’t holding back, however, and in spite of his wild swings, Lois finds herself being pushed back.  Eventually, he overdoes it, and she gets in a strong kick to his knee (making him yell), but then Number Two moves in.

One big thug is one thing, but two is… a bit different.

Distantly, Lois thinks that it might’ve been better if she’d thought to bring her taser with her.

“You really wanna kill me?” she pants.  “My death wouldn’t exactly be what you call low-profile.”

Number Two looks nervous.  “Hey, uh, maybe she’s right - “

Lois thinks that she just might be in the clear, until she notices that Number One doesn’t just look nervous - he looks downright terrified.  Which is never a good sign, because people aren’t terrified of _her_.  They’re terrified of whoever is behind the scenes.

At least now she has confirmation that there _is_ someone behind the scenes.  It’s a distant sort of realization, though, as she watches Number One raise the crow bar again, ready to strike at her.  She settles into one of her stances, hoping that her weekly karate practices are enough.

Before any of them can move, however, there is a flash of blue, and both men are gone.  

Lois stares at the space that they just inhabited, unable to comprehend what just happened.  There’s only one person who would have been capable of what she just saw, and it’s been a year since she tossed a handful of dirt on his coffin.

There’s another blur, and then Clark - _what the actual hell?_ \- is standing in front of her, his face the picture of solemn.

“I convinced them to confess to attempted assault,” he says, without preamble.

Lois gapes at him.  An entire year, and most of it was spent hoping that he might reappear as he has now.  She hates to admit it, but she’s pictured a thousand different ways in which he comes back to her - always managing to summon up a ghost of the warmth she used to feel around him.  

What she’s feeling now, though, isn’t warmth.  It’s more like someone has doused her in ice water.

He doesn’t give her one of their secretive smiles, and his tone is more… _concernedly_ polite than anything else.  He’s speaking to her in a way that she doesn’t recognize (yes she does, it’s the way that he speaks to everyone he’s helped but doesn’t have a personal connection with).  She feels rooted to the ground, her discovery of the bigger link behind the drug ring paling in significance.

“Ms. Lane?” he prompts.  

She does a quick check of their surroundings, and then faces him again.  “Clark?”

There’s no mistaking the confusion in his voice.  “I’m sorry?”

Lois almost forgets to breathe for a moment (and he must notice, because he starts to look really worried), so she turns around and faces away from him for a moment, regaining her composure.  She has no idea if this is real or a hallucination of some kind, but what she does know is that Superman’s alter-ego has been completely erased.  Or maybe this is some sick joke.

“Nothing,” she says, planting a false smile on her face.  “Thanks for the save.  Although it… probably wasn’t necessary.  I’ve got a black belt.  I’ll be fine, I’m… sure you have more people to help.”

He gives her a last, cordial nod, and then is off - is she imagining it, or did he take off with more ease than he ever has before?  Lois shakes her head, thoughts still whirling in her brain, and thumbs the button to stop the recorder in her pocket.

* * *

“Hi, Mrs. Kent.  It’s Lois.  Call me back as soon as you can.  Something important has come up, and I’d hoped you would hear it from me, instead of from… elsewhere.  Talk to you later.”

She’s sitting in a bathroom stall, pretending to take too long.  She pockets her cell phone and, for good measure, kicks the stall door.

It takes another five minutes before Lois feels like she can face the office - the office which is in an uproar over the news, over the sightings of the Man of Steel.  Questions are flying back and forth: was he resurrected?  Did he ever really die to begin with?  Is it really him?

Perry’s waiting for her at her desk.  “We need to talk,” he tells her.

Lois follows him into his office, fully aware of what he wants to talk about.  As soon as he shuts the door, she makes sure that she’s the one who speaks first.

“No, I didn’t know he was alive,” she says, letting some of her exhaustion filter into her voice.  “No, he didn’t give me the chance to interview him when he intervened in my investigation.  No, I don’t see how contacting him will be possible.”

Perry raises an eyebrow.  “You’re the inside woman, Lois.  Always have been where he’s concerned.  What’s changed?  What’s going on here?”

She folds her arms.  “I wish I knew, Perry.  But I don’t, and I’m off the clock.  I’d like to go home.”

Perry’s eyes narrow.  He _knows_ that that isn’t like her at all, but after a few seconds of them staring each other down he gives her a curt nod, and Lois sweeps from the room, all but running to her desk in a hurry to be out of the building.  She just… she can’t be here right now, no matter how big the news is.

She’s in the lobby when her phone vibrates.  Relief fills her momentarily, until she sees the caller ID and realizes that it isn’t Martha.  

“Bruce,” she answers sharply.  “I don’t know anything, and I’m really not in the mood.”

“But you’ve seen him,” he deduces.

Lois lets out an aggravated sigh, but that does little to make him back down.  “…yeah, I’ve seen him.”

“I get the feeling that that’s not a good thing.”

“Not in this case, no.”  Lois switches her phone to her other ear, exiting the building and waving down a taxi.  “He helped me out of a tight spot, but he doesn’t know that Clark Kent exists.  Thinks he’s just… Superman.  Or Kal-El, maybe.  I didn’t get the chance to ask him.”

“Lois, I hate to ask this,” Bruce says, “but is there a way you can?  We need to figure out where he stands.”

Lois almost yells at him over the phone.  Superman - Clark - doesn’t seem to know her anymore.  She’s barely had any time to process this (she’s been grieving for a year, damn it), and yet now she’s supposed to confront him when he doesn’t even remember her?  

She holds herself back, though, because Bruce is right.  They need to know.  After everything that happened with Luthor, it’s hard to trust that anything is what it seems these days.  

“I’ll see what I can do,” she mumbles.

“Thanks, Lois.”  He sounds like he means it, but Lois can’t quite resist hanging up on him without saying goodbye.  Even so, a plan is already formulating in her mind about how to deal with this.

Her apartment, when she reaches it, is silent, even though today’s revelation makes her almost believe that it might not be when she gets there.  She lets out a long sigh as she takes her shoes off, debating internally on how best to get Clark’s attention.  She could find trouble again (it’s not exactly hard, for her), but she reasons that he has super hearing for a reason.

She goes out onto the balcony feeling a bit stupid, but straightens her spine.  Hopefully he’s in Metropolis, and not halfway across the world.

“Superman,” she says loudly.  “Kal-El.  Whatever you wanna call yourself.  I know you’re focused on saving people, but if you want to be involved in something that’s a little more productive than rescuing cats from trees, then meet me at the following address.”

She reads out the location of a warehouse near the bay.  It’s where she had been planning on going anyway - where the drugs change hands.  She only needs a few more photographs and her story will be solid: that the local government has some hand in funding these criminals.  It’ll give her even more enemies, but that’s always a risk she’s been willing to take.

Unsurprisingly, the only thing that answers her is the wind.  Lois shivers and retreats inside.

* * *

Nighttime stakeouts have never been a favorite of Lois’, but there’s almost never a better time.  There’s no sign of life in or around the warehouse yet, but she knows that they wouldn’t bother being here this early.  

The neighboring warehouse had a ladder up to the roof, where she’s currently lying down with her camera.  The warehouse has already been bugged, and she’s already eagerly awaiting the moment that some big-name politician’s name is dropped.  

The part of her that isn’t focused on gathering evidence is keeping an eye on the skies, both hoping for and dreading Clark’s arrival.

As it turns out, she doesn’t have to wait long.

“This isn’t the most inconspicuous spot, Ms. Lane.”  She turns to look at him; he’s crouched a few feet away from her, looking anxiously at the moon.  

“It’s funny how they never think to look up,” she muses.  “Even when _you’re_ around.”

She can feel his gaze on her, but even though she wants nothing more than to turn her head and drink him in, she knows that doing that will just make it hurt more.  

“You said my name, earlier,” he finally says.

For one wild moment, she thinks that he’s talking about ‘Clark’, but then she remembers.  “What, Kal-El?  That _is_ your name, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes.  It’s just not common knowledge.”

Something's not adding up, and that something is that Clark doesn’t seem to realize that something’s not adding up.  Lois is half-tempted to challenge him on it, but she decides that it might be better to reel him in with her investigation first.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” she starts.  “We’re staking out a drug deal.  Someone with a lot of influence in the city has been helping a gang supply this shit to kids in the slums for more than a month now, and the police keep getting diverted.  I’m planning on figuring out who it is.”

Lois looks at him for the first time and is startled to realize that he’s moved closer.  She can tell by the gleam in his eye that he’s interested.  

“You were right,” he admits.  “This is a little bit more impacting.  Maybe not more impacting than a subway crash, but in the long run it’ll do those kids some good.”

Lois grins at him.  “Glad you see it my way, Kal.  I’ve got the place bugged, but just in case, the super hearing might be useful too.”

He nods.  If he minds her calling him Kal, then he says nothing about it.  

They’re sitting there in silence for almost another half an hour before a couple of small trucks pull up.  They begin unloading boxes from the backs of each one, and they all look like typical dock workers.

“I can see the drugs,” Superman mutters.  “They’re keeping them stuffed inside teddy bears.”

Lois zooms in with the camera, snapping a few pictures, trying to get clear shots of faces.  The trucks are unmarked, but she can hear some conversation coming in from her bugs, now, closer to the warehouse doors.

“… we get our payment.”

“Relax, would you?  My boss’ll have the money transferred to your accounts in no time.  He appreciates you doing business with him, and he’s happy with his cut.”

“He’d better,” the first guys spits.  “With Superman back, we might just go back to dealing in Gotham.”

“Please, like that rat’s hole is any better,” snorts the second man.  “Besides, the Bat isn’t exactly dead.  You wanna end up branded?”

“Heard the Bat ain’t branding no more.”

“And I say don’t believe everything you hear.”

Lois grits her teeth in frustration.  They’re just arguing about what everyone in the damn city’s been arguing about - that Superman’s back, that he’s going to change everything again.  What, exactly, is changing for her, when she still feels hollow every day?

She leans over the side to get a few more shots in, then pulls herself back from the edge.  She and Kal exchange looks, reminding her that he can hear everything that she can.

“I don’t think they’re gonna say anything,” she finally whispers, a feeling of frustration overcoming her.  They weren’t willing to cross their boss when she confronted two of them earlier, and they’re not willing to spill even now (when they shouldn’t suspect that they’re being watched).  

Kal purses his lips, looking thoughtful.  She remembers Clark mimicking that exact same expression when he was trying to think of a way to word a story, and has to look away from him again.

“They’re scared of me,” he deduces quietly.

She blinks at him.  “Does that… bother you?”

“Not… really,” he replies, frowning, and Lois feels a bit colder for a moment before reminding herself that he’s got amnesia.  “But it gives me an idea.”

A few moments later, she’s watching the scene play out: Kal swoops down and scares the living hell out of them, before grabbing the ringleader and steadily asking him who he works for her.  Fear of punishment for her murder wasn’t enough to scare them into answering her before, but fear of Superman is enough to scare them into answering now.

“Congressman Wylie!” the man shouts, shaking.  “It’s Congressman Wylie.  He’s been supplying ways to get the drugs into the city.”

Kal smiles cordially.  “Thank you.  You’ve been very helpful.”

Which doesn’t stop him from turning them all in at the police station, of course.  Lois climbs down from her perch and retrieves her recording equipment.  That was one of the smoothest operations she’s had in months, and she knows that it will make all the difference in the world.  

“Thanks for the help,” she says to him, when he zooms back to her.  “This’ll be huge.”

He bows his head.  “You’re welcome.”

They stand there awkwardly for a few moments.  Lois knows that this is her chance to ask questions, but the words keep getting stuck in her throat.  To her horror, there are tears prickling at her eyes, and she has to turn to the side to hide them from him.

He clears his throat.  “Well then, Miss Lane, if that’s all…”

Lois doesn’t move, but he’s already floating away, and then he switches to top speed, and she’s shouting, “Wait!”

He’s back in milliseconds, looking concerned.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

He looks mildly amused.  “I think you just did.”

Well, it’s good to know that he hasn’t lost his ability to sass her.  Lois gives him a tiny smile before continuing.  “You’ve been dead for a year,” she says, folding her arms.  “A whole year, Superman.  There was a massive funeral in the capital.  Batman even turns up in Metropolis sometimes, to fight the crime on the rise here.  What happened?  How are you _back_?”

Those are barely a fraction of the questions that she wants to ask, but it’s taking everything she has not to reveal her connection to him - though she has a feeling that he’s already suspicious of her in that regard.  

The question, however, makes him grow still.

“I don’t really know,” he admits quietly.  “I… I remember dying.  I remember Luthor’s monster killing me.  And then I just… woke up, in the middle of a cornfield.  Still a bit sore, but otherwise fine.  And I just figured I’d try to go back to doing what I was doing, you know?”

“What you’ve always been doing?” she guesses.

“Yeah.  Helping people out is what I’ve been doing my whole life.  No reason to stop now.”

Lois knows that the smart thing to do would be to smile, but she can’t seem to get her facial muscles to respond.  Keep talking.  “So, you think you just… healed?  Went into stasis, or something, instead of dying, and then took the time to heal?”

“I figure it’s something like that.”

“Okay then.”  There is still so much that isn’t adding, and Lois wants to scream at him because _why can’t he see it_ \- but she refrains.  Instead, she holds out a hand for him to shake.  

“Well, it’s good to have you back,” she tells him, hoping that he can’t see her heart breaking.  His pleasant expression doesn’t change as he shakes her hand.

“Glad to be back, Miss Lane.”

* * *

It’s supposed to be a day out with Diana - because Diana has declared that Lois needs to take a break from work, and that the weather is lovely - but if it’s supposed to be fun, then Lois is definitely ruining that agenda.

Last night, she just barely held it together long enough to explain the situation to Martha, and she’d said goodbye before hearing a muffled sob.  She passed out from exhaustion shortly after that, and now she’s leaning on Diana’s shoulder while she has a complete breakdown in a public park, where they’re sitting on a bench.

Diana is one of those people who can comfort someone without saying anything.  She’s got an arm around Lois’ shoulders, and she doesn’t make a peep while Lois gets her coat wet.  

“This sucks,” Lois mutters, once she’s finally run out of tears.

“That’s an accurate way to describe it, yes,” Diana agrees.

“I just - I don’t get it.  How can he not realize that there’s something wrong?   _Everyone_ has some kind of childhood, but he seems to think he just appeared and was saving people from the start.”

“It could be that he does realize,” Diana suggests, “but he doesn’t want to face it.”

That gives Lois something to think about, and it’s enough for them to spend the rest of the day at a cafe, where they discuss Lois’ latest article.

It has, thankfully, been a huge hit.  The right people have gotten arrested, and people’s eyes have been opened to how many kids have been affected by corporate douchebags who want more money.  Lois feels a few stirrings of pride whenever she sees a mention of it.  

She bids Diana farewell at the train station, and then starts to walk back to her apartment building; it’s not exactly far.  She’s caught up in what Diana said to her - enough that she doesn’t notice the guy shuffling along behind her, at first.

It’s broad daylight, so she pays him little mind.  However, eventually she’s pretty sure that he’s edging closer to her as time goes on, and she purposefully turns into an alleyway, ducking behind a dumpster.  Sure enough, he turns to follow her, and she sees the knife in his hand.

Lois comes out of her hiding place and grabs his wrist twisting it and making him cry out.  What she doesn’t count on is him having a knife in his other hand, which flashes out and is buried in her side before she can react.  Lois hisses out, but makes him drop the first knife and then delivers a kick to his balls.  

“It’s too late for your Congressman pal, bud,” she grits out, somehow managing to speak through the pain.  “So I’m not sure what the _hell_ that was for.”

She feels oddly calm, even though she’s just been stabbed.  She calls 9-1-1, informs them of the situation, and then leans against the wall, aware that moving too much while only make it worse.  She doesn’t remove the knife from her side, either, and occasionally delivers kicks to the mugger’s head whenever he starts to move too much.

Lois can hear the sirens on their way, but before they arrive there’s a flash of blue, and Kal lands in front of her.  

He gapes at the knife for a moment.  “Ms. Lane, what - ?”

“It’s under control,” she tells him.  

“Under control,” he repeats, disbelievingly.  Then he’s giving her a once-over, and she realizes that he’s checking her injuries.  “You’re lucky it missed your internal organs.”

“See?  Fine.”

His look is unreadable.  

Lois sighs.  “Look, the ambulance is almost here, so I’ll be okay.  Believe it or not I managed just fine before you came along, Kal.”

He continues to stare at her for a long moment, and then slowly nods and flies off.  Lois greets the paramedics and the police, and resigns herself to a long and painful week.

* * *

It seems like every single one of her visitors has the intention of berating her for recklessness.  Lois is always careful to point out that she had no intention of getting followed or stabbed, but that doesn’t stop the raised eyebrows and disapproving expressions.  

Except her most recent visitor, who is currently floating outside of her window.

“You don’t have to check on me, you know,” she says.  She’s glad that he has, though, because it finally gives her the chance to say what’s been on her mind.

She shoots him a smile.  “You know, I was wondering something, about what you said the other day.  About how you’ve always been helping people.”

His answer is neutral.  “Yes, it’s - “

“Your whole life?” she continues.  “I mean… even when you were growing up?  Because toddlers shouldn’t be expected to save the world.”

His smile turns more bemused.  “I don’t really remember my childhood, but I expect that the habit must’ve started then.”

“You ever wonder why you don’t remember?”

Now the smile is turning into a frown.  “Miss Lane, I don’t see how that’s - “

“You knew what a teddy bear was.”

Now he looks completely confused, but once Lois is on a roll she doesn’t stop.  “Sorry?”

“You knew what a teddy bear was.  But how would you know unless you had some kind of childhood?”

“I mean, it’s not that farfetched - “

“You don’t ever wonder where you come from?” she asks him.  “Where you grew up?  The people you left behind?  The family you might’ve had?”

Kal’s eyes grow cold.  “My family died on Krypton, Miss Lane.”

Except that that’s only a little bit true, and Lois wants to scream at him.  She wants to tell him that his mother is grieving all over again because her son wouldn’t recognize her.  How Lois isn’t the only one who mourns for Clark Kent.  She reigns herself in, though, unwilling to do this.

He must see her physical reaction, though, because he folds his arms.  “What do you know?”

“What do I know?”

“Please don’t play games with me, Ms. Lane.”

“Believe me,” she says softly.  “I’m not.”

If she didn’t know him so well, then she wouldn’t recognize the hunger in his eyes - the desperation that reveals that he has, indeed, been pondering everything that she’s saying now.  

She doesn’t know if she’s doing the right thing, but it’s not fair to hide it from him.

“Clark Kent,” she says.  “Look him up.  You might find some answers.”

* * *

Lois is released from the hospital two weeks later, with orders to take it easy.  Her version of ‘taking it easy’, of course, is to go straight on to her next story.  She dives back into her work, trying not to think about the fact that she hasn’t seen Kal since his first hospital visit.  There are still reports of Superman, of course, but she hates not knowing.

It’s a Friday, and Perry makes her go home early, looking deliberately at where he knows her bandages are still covering her side.  She retreats to her apartment and orders take out, letting out a long sigh and wishing that she’d thought to invite Diana and Bruce over, or something.  She doesn’t think she can stand the silence.

She still moves slowly, wincing.  She’s heading over to the couch when she spots him on her balcony.

It’s so reminiscent of that time, shortly before he was… gravely injured, that the sense of deja vu almost overwhelms her.  His expression is similar to then, as well, but there’s frustration there as well as sadness.

Lois opens the door.  “Do you want to come in?” she offers.

To her surprise, he nods.  She steps aside, leaving the door open so that he doesn’t feel trapped in any way.

“I ordered food,” she says.  “You’re welcome to have some, if you want.”

“Maybe.”  He’s staring at her, now, with a look of longing, and she waits for him to talk.

“I looked up Clark Kent,” he finally explains.  “I’m so sorry, I don’t…”

“You still don’t remember.”

He nods.  “I spoke to my… mother.  She told me some of the story.  But she says that you know the rest.  I was hoping you could…”

“Fill in the blanks?”

“Yeah.”

And Lois obliges - because how can she not?  So she starts with how they first met, when he cauterized her wound in the Arctic.  Then she goes over their meeting in Smallville, and their subsequent encounters, and then glosses over their romance (two years they were together, and he looks even more unsure when she implies that).  Then she explains about his reporting on the Batman, and about how his mother’s been doing since he died.

When she finally finishes, somehow managing to keep her voice from shaking, she finds him looking at her with a hint of wonder in his expression.  It’s the most familiar thing she’s seen from him since he came back, and it almost makes her collapse in relief.

“I knew you were brave,” he says, “but that… you’re probably the bravest person in the world.”

Lois waves her hand.  “Me?  Nah.  Just very, very determined.  Sometimes a little too much.”

He looks down at his hands, which are twisted in his lap, but there’s a little smile on his face.  Lois almost misses the bell for the food, and she excuses herself with a murmur to retrieve it.  It almost feels normal - almost.

Almost, except that when she gets back to the sitting room, Clark’s not smiling anymore.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever remember,” he says.  “And even then - how can I go back to being him?  The world believes that Superman can come back to life, but Clark Kent was supposed to be… ordinary.”

“First of all,” Lois says, “there wasn’t a whole lot about Clark Kent that was ordinary, either.  People just didn’t notice that.  Which, admittedly, was what we were aiming for - “

“’We’?” he asks.  “How much input did you have?”

“I suggested the glasses.  Oh, and I made you give up flannel.”

“What an accomplishment.”

Lois smirks at him.  “You look much better in dress shirts.”

She’s beating herself over the head a moment later, when he starts blushing.  Already, she’s forgotten that there are boundaries between them now, that he’s not used to the same rapport that she is.  She has Superman - Kal - whatever sitting on her couch, in his suit, not Clark.  

Speaking of… “Do you want to take a shower, or something?” she asks him.  “How long have you been wearing that?”

He blinks at her.  “Um… a while.”

Lois stares at him.  “O…kay, let me rephrase.  Go take a shower, _now_.  I will happily wash the suit.  Uh… some of Clark’s clothes are still here, so I can get you an outfit to wear.”

“Yeah, uh, sure.  Thanks.”

God, will he even know how to function as a normal person?  He’s forgotten about showers - does he still eat?  Does he sleep?  She knows that, theoretically, he can go without any of those things, but it makes her insides twist to realize that he’s probably gotten almost no rest since he woke up.

Lois throws the suit in the washer and starts scarfing down fried rice, flipping through messages on her phone and marking off emails as ‘read’.  Kal doesn’t take long in the shower, and he gives her a sheepish look when he comes out, like he’s embarrassed to be wearing his own clothes.  

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I know that this must be hard for you.”

Lois thinks of a ring, hanging from a chain that she keeps under her shirt, and says, “Yeah, it’s hard.  But maybe it’s time someone helped you for a change.”

She stays up late, while they’re waiting for his suit to be washed, but eventually he tells her that he has to leave.  She expected this, but she still feels a pang when he changes back into the suit.

“Thank you, again, Lois,” he says.  “For everything.”

It’s a start.

“You’re welcome.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about just making a separate story for it, but then I figured that this might work better instead. I hope you guys like it!

So, Superman is Lois’ roommate now.  Ish.

The truth is, she doesn’t really have a label that fits their current relationship.  They’re certainly not boyfriend and girlfriend anymore - she’s careful not to let any hints of that color her interactions with him, and he seems just as determined to avoid it as she is.

Kal (he’s not a fan of being called 'Clark', in spite of her unfair wishes) still isn’t convinced that he ever considered himself human.  Even without his memories, however, he’s human in all the ways that count.  His kindness, his generosity - those haven’t been lost.  There isn’t a day that goes by when Lois doesn’t see compassion in Kal’s gaze, whether it’s directed at her or the people he’s saving.

When he’s not busy being Superman, Lois has convinced him that showering and eating and even sleeping, on occasion, are necessary parts of his life.

“I’m still not sure that - “ he had tried to say.

“Sniff your armpit.”

“What?  No.”

He did, later on, and he zoomed to her apartment to tell her that yes, she was right, and could he please use her shower again?

So now, Kal drops by every few days to… refresh himself, is really the best way to describe it.  He’s always careful to make sure that he isn’t seen.  He does, however, seem somewhat guilty whenever he lands on her balcony.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he usually asks her.  “I feel like a parasite.”

Lois doesn’t know how to tell him that _she’s_ the real parasite, essentially feeding off the few interactions that she has with him.  It’s not hard for her to still be in love with him.  So instead, she insists that it’s no trouble for her, and pushes him towards the bathroom.  He then takes a shower, comes out looking uncomfortable in Clark’s clothes, and then argues with her about food.

She always tries to order food while he’s showering.  That way, he can’t refuse.

Occasionally, when he’s really conked out, he’ll sleep on the couch for a few hours.  Lois, by contrast, will lie awake all night, trying not to think about how Kal - Clark - whatever - is in the other room.

Every few weeks or so, she asks him if he’s visited his mother.  He nods, brightening considerably, and Lois is just glad that he’s found some bit of happiness in Martha.  Having compassion for others doesn’t mean that _he’s_ happy.

All in all, it could be worse.  Their unspoken arrangement has become a routine that Lois looks forward to, especially when the stories she’s working on aren’t all that stimulating.  She thinks she can get used to this being her life.

That is, until she fucks up.  Spectacularly.

* * *

This interview should be innocuous enough.  Except it isn’t.

No, this time Lois is stupid enough to accept Samuel Newhart’s offer for a drink - something that she regrets when she takes a tiny sip and immediately begins to feel light-headed.  What runs through her mind is _Seriously?  In broad daylight_?

What comes out of her mouth is a slurred, “Shit.”

She wakes up in what she guesses is a basement of some kind.  A large, empty room with cement walls and a floor, and one door that looks more like a bank vault entrance than just a door.  Lois’ head is pounding, but she grits her teeth against a groan.  Her captors probably have some form of surveillance on her, and she’s not going to give them the satisfaction of reacting poorly.

Lois isn’t restrained in any way, so she gets up and searches the room.  The door, of course, locks from the outside - and if she’s being honest with herself, she’s not even sure if she can push it open herself.  There’s nothing else in the room, really, except for a tiny air vent in the corner and a large ceiling light.

She sits, even though her butt hurts from being propped upright against the wall, and catalogs everything she knows about Daniel Newhart.  His company makes toothpaste, for god’s sake; she had honestly thought that it was a harmless interview.  Definitely one of the more boring jobs that Perry sent her on.

Apparently not, if Newhart has kidnapped her.

Briefly, Lois debates calling for Kal - he’ll probably hear her.  He always seems to, even if he can’t remember her.

Ultimately, she decides against it.  There’s a slim chance that she’ll be able to find something out while she’s still in captivity.  She hasn’t made any overt sounds of stress yet, which would explain why he has yet to find her.

Settling back into a more relaxed position, Lois decides that there’s nothing left to do but wait.

Her watch has been taken away from her, but Lois is pretty sure that minutes stretch into hours, and she hasn’t seen hide nor hair of her kidnappers.  Of anyone, really.  She can’t hear anything, which also doesn’t seem to bode well.  A chill settles over her - it’s one thing if her kidnappers are deliberately making her wait.  It’s another if they’ve forgotten about her entirely.

Lois isn’t sure which is worse.

She doesn’t have access to food or water.  She knows that she has three days before a lack of water will probably kill her.  There’s always _that_ option, if she’s desperate enough, but what would she even collect it in?  Which brings her attention to the fact that there’s nowhere for her to relieve herself.

Lois grimaces.  So it’s going to be a humiliating captivity.  Well then.

“Kal,” she says out loud.  “I need an assist, here.”

She expects to have to wait a few minutes, but when her count reaches 300 and she still gets no response, panic starts to build.  Is it possible that they’ve stashed her somewhere with sound-proofing?

She forces herself to breathe.  There’s no need to worry just yet.  Most likely her captors are just trying to psyche her out.  She sits, and she breathes.

* * *

At least, Lois tells herself, she’ll never reach the point when her body will start cannibalizing itself for nutrients.  Not that that’s a whole lot of comfort.

Damn it.  Hadn’t she promised herself that she wouldn’t be in this position anymore?  Lois can’t afford to rely on Superman to get out of situations like this, which means avoiding situations like this in the first place.  Which hadn’t been that hard to do, but she underestimated Newhart.  Maybe she needs to re-evaluate her background checking skills.

Logically, she knows that someone will notice her missing at the Planet.  She knows that they’ll attempt to contact her, and that Perry will get in touch with family members to ask them if they know where she is.  Her father and her sister won’t have a clue, of course, and Clark is no longer Clark, but their alarm will probably at least be noticed by Bruce.  

That doesn’t stop her from occasionally talking to herself.  It seems to be the only thing keeping her sane.

Lois isn’t going to lie - she thrives on danger.  But not the long game.  This waiting and uncertainty isn’t for her.

She’s gotten to the point where she’s reciting her own articles word-for-word (narcissism much?) when the door to her vault opens.

It’s Bruce who steps in, dressed in full Bat regalia, followed closely by an anxious looking Kal.  

“Lead-lined?” she asks, looking between the two of them.  Kal’s response is a grimace.  Lois sends him a kind smile; it’s enough to know that he’s been searching for her.

“Newhart and his employees died en-masse,” Bruce explains; his altered voice is still jarring.  “There was an attack by some woman - Leslie Willis - and she proved to be a bit much for Superman to handle.”

Kal looks frustrated.  “I didn’t know electricity could have that effect.”

“Well, you do now,” Bruce says.  “And so does everyone else.  So watch your back.”

Lois shivers a bit.  So her hunch was correct - she had, indeed been forgotten down here.  Speaking of which…

“Where are we?”

“Corner of Sixth and Jury,” Bruce replies.  “It’s an old bank.  They turned it into a mall, but Newhart bought the basement for unknown purposes.  Well, previously unknown.  I guess he likes holding investigative journalists captive.”

Lois’ blood runs cold.  “This isn’t the first time, is it?”

“From what I’ve been able to tell?  No.”

Sounds like she has another company to tear down.

Bruce seems satisfied with her condition, so he marches out and disappears around the corner.  Kal looks slightly ashamed of himself, like it’s his fault she was caught, and Lois can’t stand to see that look on his face.  

She’s about to tell him that he isn't to blame, but he speaks before she can.  “Do you need a ride back to your apartment?”

They haven’t flown together since his return.  Lois swallows, not wanting to make this uncomfortable and already failing.  “Um, if it’s not too much trouble.  Sure.  Thanks.”

It’s about as bad as she pictured it.  He hooks an arm around her waist so that they’re side-by-side instead of the bridal-style carry that Clark had preferred.  It’s not that that bothers her, though - it’s that she can’t seem to think of anything to say, and he can’t either.  They land on her balcony without incident, and this time it’s her who slinks off to shower while he…

…she honestly has no idea what he plans to do now.  Probably go save more people.

To her surprise, however, he’s still there when she emerges from the bathroom in her pajamas, prepared to heat up one of the cans of soup that she keeps in her pantry as a last resort.  Instead, however, he appears to have cooked an omelet for her.

She stares at it, suddenly wanting to cry.  Damn it.

“You didn’t have to make this,” she tells him.  Then frowns as a thought occurs to her.  “How _did_ you make this?”

“I, uh, Googled it.  On your phone.”  At her incredulous look, he shrugs.  “Bruce hacked into it to find out your schedule when we were looking for you.”

Lois laughs a bit.  “Well, thank you, Kal, that’s very thoughtful of you.”  She makes a mental note to change her password, and hopes that he didn’t think to look through her gallery.

She eats while Kal takes his turn in the shower, then curls up on the sofa and watches an episode of Friends without really watching it.  She’s sort of… bothered by the fact that she _isn’t_ bothered by her ordeal.  She doubts that she’s going to have nightmares tonight.  It’ll take a little while to get back on a regular eating schedule, but not too long.

Lois must doze off at some point, because she’s woken up by someone tucking a blanket around her.  Kal freezes for a moment when she looks up at him, grumbling a bit at the taste in her mouth.  

“I can move, if you wanted to use the couch,” she tells him.

He fidgets slightly.  “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“It’s fine,” she assures him.  “I need to brush my teeth anyway.  Get some sleep, Kal.”

She can feel his gaze burning into her back, right up until the bathroom door closes.

* * *

Kal’s visits are almost daily, after that.

Most of the time they’re short - just him checking up on her.  Ordinarily, Lois would be annoyed by his hovering, but in this case, he manages to be unobtrusive.  Plus, he starts insisting on cooking for her more, and she’s not going to argue with that.

“This is kind of the only thing I can do to pay you back,” he admits.

Lois smiles.  “Believe me, this is more than enough.”

It might be her imagination, but the lengths of his visits seem to increase, as weeks go by.  He hangs around for a little bit longer just to talk to her, or he puts up the pretense of wanting to know more about Earth culture (because he doesn’t remember that, either).  Eventually, when Lois tries to convince him to watch Star Wars with her, he barely puts up a fight before he’s sitting on her couch next to her.  

It’s both better and worse.  Lois has to keep herself in check, in order to make sure that she doesn’t use nearly as many casual touches as she used it.  She often has to pull back her hand at the last second to keep it from brushing over his.  If he notices her aborted movements, he says nothing about them.

There’s one evening in particular, when Lois is having Diana over, that he walks in without knocking.  He freezes at the sight of the two of them.

“Sorry,” he says.  “I, uh, can come back later - “

“Don’t be silly, Kal-El,” Diana interrupts.  “I don’t mind.  Unless you do, Lois…?”

Lois _does_ mind, actually.  At this point, Diana is the person she prefers to vent to, and more often than not Kal is the subject of her venting.  But he looks a bit like a hopeful puppy, and so she suppresses a sigh and forces a smile.  “No, not at all.”

“You know, I think I was about to get dinner started,” Diana announces.  “Kal-El, would you like to help me?”

He nods, following her into the kitchen.  Lois makes a mental note about Diana calling him ‘Kal-El’ instead of ‘Kal’, and watches as the two speak in low voices, serious looks on their faces.  Diana folds her arms and stares him down, at which point Kal slumps and starts pulling things out of the fridge.

Of course.  It’s hard to forget that they work together, now, when the threat is large enough.  Lois hasn’t really given much thought to the trio and their activities, but she can now recall Bruce mentioning it on one of her trips to the Batcave.

The dinner that the three of them have isn’t awkward, thankfully, and Lois finds herself feeling truly relaxed for the first time in weeks.  Diana leaves once the dishes have been washed, hopping off the balcony as if Lois is living on the first floor instead of the seventh.  She rolls her eyes.

“Every time,” she mutters.

Kal frowns after her.  “She does like to show off.”

“Yeah.”

_Now_ the awkwardness chooses to make itself known.  Lois clasps her hands in front of her, not sure of what to say.  Kal, meanwhile, is studying the fridge as though it’s the blueprint for world peace.

“So,” Lois says, at the same time that Kal says, “I…”

They break off with nervous laughs.

“You first,” Lois insists.

For a moment, Kal actually looks ill - the poor guy must really be nervous about whatever he wants to talk about, which makes Lois a bit nervous in turn.  Still, even a Superman with no memories of her knows better than to try and say, “No you.”

“I… know that you’ve mentioned it before,” Kal begins.  “A bit.  But I was wondering if you’d tell me about our relationship.”

Lois opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again.  “Do you mean just… about it, or…?”

“Not just that.  Did we have one?  A romantic one, I mean.”

What is she supposed to say?  Lois can’t lie to him.  “Yeah.  We did.”

They stand there in silence for a few minutes.  Lois debates on whether or not she should elaborate.  Does he want to know more?  Does he wish that he hadn’t asked the question?

“I’m not surprised,” he finally says.  “I mean, with you being you, I don’t see how he couldn’t… how I couldn’t…”

Lois feels her jaw drop, but her heart does the opposite.

“But I’m not him,” he says quickly.  “I get that.  I do.  I just needed to know.”

Everything becomes clear in that instant.  The space between had seemed like a yawning chasm only a few moments ago, but Lois crosses it in an instant, carefully placing a hand on his arm.  He looks down at it in surprise, before making eye contact with her.

“I call you Kal because I didn’t think you were comfortable with being called ‘Clark’,” Lois tells him.  “But you _are_ him.  Everything that made him who he is?  You have it.  You’re kind.  You’re compassionate.  You care about people.  You have the same drive to do good in this world, even though humanity doesn’t deserve it.  That was all integral to him, and it’s the same for you.”

“I don’t know if I can believe that.”

“And I can’t force you to believe it,” Lois admits.  “But _I_ do.  I hope that counts for something.”

Kal grabs her hand in his, giving her a smile that makes her heart ache.

“It counts for more than ‘something’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I left things kind of open-ended, but hear me out: I honestly don't know if I want Clark to get his memories back, and I'm thinking I'd like to leave it this way. For now, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still hooked on BvS stuff right now, so I'm still accepting prompts for it (gen, Clois, Wonderlane) at my [Tumblr askbox](http://darknessfactor.tumblr.com/ask). 
> 
> I may have to write a sequel to this, actually, because there's still so much untapped potential here. We'll see.


End file.
